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In April, Rostv was on orderly duty. One morning, between seven and eight, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, changed his rain-soaked underclothes, said his prayers, drank tea, got warm, then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, and, his face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on but his shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his head. He was pleasantly considering the probability of being promoted in a few days for his last reconnoitering expedition, and was awaiting Densov, who had gone out somewhere and with whom he wanted a talk.

Suddenly he heard Densov shouting in a vibrating voice behind the hut, evidently much excited. Rostv moved to the window to see whom he was speaking to, and saw the quartermaster, Topchenko.

“I ordered you not to let them eat that Mshka woot stuff!” Densov was shouting. “And I saw with my own eyes how Lazarchk bwought some fwom the fields.”

“I have given the order again and again, your honor, but they don’t obey,” answered the quartermaster.

Rostv lay down again on his bed and thought complacently: “Let him fuss and bustle now, my job’s done and I’m lying down—capitally!” He could hear that Lavrshka—that sly, bold orderly of Densov’s—was talking, as well as the quartermaster. Lavrshka was saying something about loaded wagons, biscuits, and oxen he had seen when he had gone out for provisions.

Then Densov’s voice was heard shouting farther and farther away. “Saddle! Second platoon!”

“Where are they off to now?” thought Rostv.

Five minutes later, Densov came into the hut, climbed with muddy boots on the bed, lit his pipe, furiously scattered his things about, took his leaded whip, buckled on his saber, and went out again. In answer to Rostv’s inquiry where he was going, he answered vaguely and crossly that he had some business.

“Let God and our gweat monarch judge me afterwards!” said Densov going out, and Rostv heard the hoofs of several horses splashing through the mud. He did not even trouble to find out where Densov had gone. Having got warm in his corner, he fell asleep and did not leave the hut till toward evening. Densov had not yet returned. The weather had cleared up, and near the next hut two officers and a cadet were playing svyka, laughing as they threw their missiles which buried themselves in the soft mud. Rostv joined them. In the middle of the game, the officers saw some wagons approaching with fifteen hussars on their skinny horses behind them. The wagons escorted by the hussars drew up to the picket ropes and a crowd of hussars surrounded them.

“There now, Densov has been worrying,” said Rostv, “and here are the provisions.”

“So they are!” said the officers. “Won’t the soldiers be glad!”

A little behind the hussars came Densov, accompanied by two infantry officers with whom he was talking.

Rostv went to meet them.

“I warn you, Captain,” one of the officers, a short thin man, evidently very angry, was saying.

“Haven’t I told you I won’t give them up?” replied Densov.

“You will answer for it, Captain. It is mutiny—seizing the transport of one’s own army. Our men have had nothing to eat for two days.”

“And mine have had nothing for two weeks,” said Densov.

“It is robbery! You’ll answer for it, sir!” said the infantry officer, raising his voice.

“Now, what are you pestewing me for?” cried Densov, suddenly losing his temper. “I shall answer for it and not you, and you’d better not buzz about here till you get hurt. Be off! Go!” he shouted at the officers.

“Very well, then!” shouted the little officer, undaunted and not riding away. “If you are determined to rob, I’ll...”

“Go to the devil! quick ma’ch, while you’re safe and sound!” and Densov turned his horse on the officer.

“Very well, very well!” muttered the officer, threateningly, and turning his horse he trotted away, jolting in his saddle.

“A dog astwide a fence! A weal dog astwide a fence!” shouted Densov after him (the most insulting expression a cavalryman can address to a mounted infantryman) and riding up to Rostv, he burst out laughing.

“I’ve taken twansports from the infantwy by force!” he said. “After all, can’t let our men starve.”

The wagons that had reached the hussars had been consigned to an infantry regiment, but learning from Lavrshka that the transport was unescorted, Densov with his hussars had seized it by force. The soldiers had biscuits dealt out to them freely, and they even shared them with the other squadrons.

The next day the regimental commander sent for Densov, and holding his fingers spread out before his eyes said:

“This is how I look at this affair: I know nothing about it and won’t begin proceedings, but I advise you to ride over to the staff and settle the business there in the commissariat department and if possible sign a receipt for such and such stores received. If not, as the demand was booked against an infantry regiment, there will be a row and the affair may end badly.”

From the regimental commander’s, Densov rode straight to the staff with a sincere desire to act on this advice. In the evening he came back to his dugout in a state such as Rostv had never yet seen him in. Densov could not speak and gasped for breath. When Rostv asked what was the matter, he only uttered some incoherent oaths and threats in a hoarse, feeble voice.

Alarmed at Densov’s condition, Rostv suggested that he should undress, drink some water, and send for the doctor.

“Twy me for wobbewy... oh! Some more water... Let them twy me, but I’ll always thwash scoundwels... and I’ll tell the Empewo’... Ice...” he muttered.

The regimental doctor, when he came, said it was absolutely necessary to bleed Densov. A deep saucer of black blood was taken from his hairy arm and only then was he able to relate what had happened to him.

“I get there,” began Densov. “‘Now then, where’s your chief’s quarters?’ They were pointed out. ‘Please to wait.’ ‘I’ve widden twenty miles and have duties to attend to and no time to wait. Announce me.’ Vewy well, so out comes their head chief—also took it into his head to lecture me: ‘It’s wobbewy!’—‘Wobbewy,’ I say, ‘is not done by man who seizes pwovisions to feed his soldiers, but by him who takes them to fill his own pockets!’ ‘Will you please be silent?’ ‘Vewy good!’ Then he says: ‘Go and give a weceipt to the commissioner, but your affair will be passed on to headquarters.’ I go to the commissioner. I enter, and at the table... who do you think? No, but wait a bit!... Who is it that’s starving us?” shouted Densov, hitting the table with the fist of his newly bled arm so violently that the table nearly broke down and the tumblers on it jumped about. “Telynin! ‘What? So it’s you who’s starving us to death! Is it? Take this and this!’ and I hit him so pat, stwaight on his snout... ‘Ah, what a... what a...!’ and I sta’ted fwashing him... Well, I’ve had a bit of fun I can tell you!” cried Densov, gleeful and yet angry, his white teeth showing under his black mustache. “I’d have killed him if they hadn’t taken him away!”